The facts being what they are, I couldn't not take some time off from podcasting and blogging and even life coaching.

It is what happens when your youngest son swears in as a Marine recruit.

It is what happens when you are preparing for a juried art show.

It is what happens when your mother has a cancer scare {praise God, she is in the clear, now!}

It is what happens when your church has three guest speakers and two weddings in the space of about six weeks.

It is what happens when you get addicted to canning produce from your garden.

It is what happens when you have to cancel a beach vacation.

It is what happens when your heart is breaking right in half, because people can be so foolish and unseeing and uncaring concerning the very heart of God.

It is what happens when life presses in fiercely, and you cannot in good conscience escape to hard liquor or pills or even (too many) crack sticks.

But I have been working very, very hard, and very, very long hours. This has not been "a break". This has been survival - taking time off from things I love a lot, to tend to things I love with all my heart.

I have finished my first two clay sculptures. Here is the one I was working on today:

She is based on my "In The Middle" series of paintings, and last year's 31 Days Project, which was a full-on party I threw for no reason, for all us girls "in the middle".

She reads, "The beauty of youth and the wisdom of age met in the middle and gave her wings to fly..."

Now, I want you to sit down, right here, right now. Here's a cup of coffee. Here's a lap blanket.

We need to talk.

I have seen credit given for a woman suddenly finding her wings to so many things/ideas/persons. I have heard women say "art" saved them. I have heard women say that going into a multi level marketing business saved them. I have heard them ascribe credit to motherhood, a man, a divorce, and eating gluten free. (And obviously, not all those things are bad...)

In the interests of contributing to the conversation, I want to tell you that I too have found my wings - smack dab in midlife. I have been experiencing what it means to soar above. Can I tell you what has given me wings? In spite of all kinds of sorrow, overwhelming responsibilities, and in spite of my every failure, can I tell you where these wings of mine have come from?

Worship is my wings.

Not art. Not finding out who God has called me to be, now that my children are grown (though that has been amazing). Not the empty nest, no matter how much I have come to enjoy that. Not even grandchildren.

{...did I really just say that...}

Back to this sculpture. I finished her up, just today. I painted out her arms and hands, and put the words down the front of her dress. As I was adding the doodles with my trusty Uniball (which you could not pry from my cold, dead hands...I have discovered THE PEN that will write over ANYthing) I was listening to this:

About two minutes in, I had to put that beloved Uniball down. Tears were streaming, for no real reason. I closed my eyes, and lifted both hands, and just took off in the spirit.

I flew.
Every burden lifted.

Totally refreshed, in a matter of moments.

I soared high above the mundane.

I soaked in the love of God.

I almost physically felt the anointing of the Holy Spirit being poured out on me, starting at the top of my head, dripping down past my shoulders, covering me with passion and purpose.

"Let us become more aware of Your presence....Let us experience the glory of Your goodness..."

Yes.

When I finally opened my eyes, arms raised, this is what I was eye to eye with:

Powerful moment. I can't begin to tell you.

Art has not given me wings. Rather, art is a tool I use to express the worship of the God who has given me wings.

As she and I were eye to eye, her posture mirroring mine, I suddenly realized where every. single. thing. I create comes from. I think I knew it already, in my head.